Hear All Evil
by Olive-Pizza
Summary: When SHIELD arrives at the office of Nelson and Murdock, Matt knows things are far more complicated than just a lawsuit. Chapter 4: The early aftermath of the explosion.
1. Chapter 1

Matt Murdock shifts in his seat, gripping his walking stick tight. He was called into the office early today, an urgent Karen reporting that the man sitting before him wanted to see Nelson and Murdock immediately. Matt waits, knowing this far more than they're expecting. Foggy clears his throat, sitting beside him.

"So what exactly can we help you with, uh…sir?" Foggy begins, clearly uncomfortable. Matt can't blame him, the cold and calculating demeanor of their prospective client set even him on edge. And Foggy had arrived _first_.

"Agent Sean Billings, " the man replies. Matt could hear the cold smile in his voice.

Karen sits in the corner of the small room, a soft click launching a pen to life.

"I would like you to take our case," Billings explains. Matt focuses his blank stare on the man, feeling the crawling weight of the agent's gaze settling on him.

"Ours as in…, you and him?" Foggy gestures to the man standing by the window. A hiss of relief escapes Matt's lips. He had known about the silent man since he entered his office, the subtle scent of leather and the steady heartbeat from the window a constant reminder of his presence. Matt would have to thank Foggy later. After all, he couldn't address someone that he shouldn't have been able to notice.

"I'm a member of SHIELD," Billings continued, ignoring the acknowledgment of his companion. So did the man at the window, apparently.  
Foggy's heartbeat quickens. He squirms beside Matt, nervous.

"So this is about the case between SHIELD and Hell's Kitchen," Matt surmises, cocking his head to the side.

"Precisely," Billings affirms with a smirk, "I'm sure you know of the ah, logistics."

It was common knowledge. A few months ago, Hell's Kitchen and a great other portion of New York City received heavy damage from a SHIELD-related incident. The former was, by no surprise, suing the organization for the costs of repairs and aggrieved inconveniences.

"We are," Foggy jumps in, fear and loyalty causing a friction within him, speeding up his heart and triggering hesitancy, "So why should we help you? And…and why us?"

"SHIELD is very well aware of your affinity for justice," Billings responds as if that's all they need to hear.

"Which brings me back to my earlier question: Then why should we help _you_?" Foggy accuses, feathers ruffling. All three of them have felt in some way, the repercussions of the event the case revolves around. Whether it be taking a detoured route to work, or mourning their favorite late night pizza place. Karen had even lost her home to the destruction.

"I'm sure if you did your research, Mr. Nelson, you would see it our way." Matt could sense the man by the window's calm ebbing away to a quiet fury. He could hear the man's heart beat, faster, faster, icy resolve bleeding through the outrage—

"I don't need _research_ to see you've destroyed half our—"

"Foggy, it's okay," Matt rests a reassuring—but also restraining—hand on his partner's shoulder. The muscles in Matt's gut loosen slightly when the heartbeat begins to slow.

"Matt—" Foggy protests, but Matt silences him with a warm squeeze to his shoulder.

"You can understand my partner's unwillingness," Matt appeases.

"Of course," Billings agrees, "But I'm sure the both of you can understand the necessity to wrap this up. And quickly. No matter the cost."

Matt's stomach knots. A man who's willing to bribe, is a little too desperate to be searching for justice. Things weren't adding up. But there were too many questions to be ignored.

Foggy didn't seem to like the hint of foul play either. "Look, Agent Billings. The last time we teamed up with a big cooperation, it sucked. A lot. Before we're ever going to willingly put ourselves into a mess like that again, we're going to have to know what we're getting ourselves into, we're going to have to trust you. But like honestly what kind of good, trustworthy guy brings a moody henchman dude that's more willing to make eye contact with a window than the people trying to help you? Things aren't looking too good for you, man."

Matt feels the man by the window stir, unceremoniously summoned by the frustration of Foggy's words.

Agent Billings chuckles, "So you will help us."

"I never said that!"

Matt rises from his seat, using his cane to pull himself up. His unseeing gaze meets the man at the window. " _Who_ are you anyway?"

"Oh him?" Agent Billings speaks up, smiling, "That's just Agent Clint Barton."

Matt can feel Barton's probing gaze trap him like a fly in a glass cup. He shivers.

"Don't be worried about trusting us, Mr. Murdock. I assure you, we want the same _justice_ you so hopelessly seek," Billings explains with a heavy blow of his words.

There was something more to this.

There always was.

"Alright," Matt sighs, reluctant but nonetheless greedy for answers, "We're taking the case. Nelson and Murdock will represent you."  
He ignores the shock swelling off of Karen and Foggy, he ignores Agent Billings in his talk of pulling up a contract, but keeps his attention and eyes locked on Barton, as he knows the agent does the same.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Okay, I really like your sense of initiative, Matt, truly, but next time _maybe_ run it by me?" Foggy suggests, exasperated, a few minutes after the two men took their leave.

Matt shuts his eyes, "You're just going to have to trust me on this one," he states quietly. Ever since Foggy found out that he was the Daredevil, the formerly named Devil of Hell's Kitchen, Foggy's trust in his friend had been a little touch-and-go. It's improved somewhat since the arrest of Wilson Fisk, but Matt couldn't lie to himself: the trust between them wasn't the same. He could still feel his partner's wary gaze on him whenever he said something slightly contrary. It stung. And knowing this, and telling Foggy to trust him nonetheless, hurt even more. But he had no choice. He had nothing to say; he was acting on his gut instinct alone, and that was something you couldn't confess.

Thankfully, Foggy ignored the probing of deeply personal grounds, "The last time we were worked for a creep in a suit, we were indirectly working for Wilson Fisk. _Wilson Fisk!_ No offense, but working for a psychopath _once_ , is enough," Foggy admits sardonically, lifting his hands in a gesture of "no more."

Matt could hear Karen's heart quicken a pace. A twinge of sympathy bleeds through his hardened resolve. Finding justice for Wilson Fisk was hard on everybody, Karen especially. Matt had found that hearing the name of Wilson Fisk held similar effects to the likes of Voldemort, for Karen. It shook her every time. Maybe it was because she was almost murdered by him, maybe it was because her friend _was_ murdered by him, maybe it was…Matt cut his swirling thoughts short. Now wasn't the time.

"This is different, Foggy," Matt points out, repositioning the walking stick in his hand, "This isn't Fisk."

"But are they any better?" Foggy retorts, rising to his feet, "You heard what he said! He tried to bribe us, Matt! Rubbing our faces in this justice— _bullshit!_ Agent Sean Billings is a freakin' douche."

Matt could feel the smile rise on Karen's face, the brief moment of terror dissolving into a sort of levity. Matt couldn't help but smile either. Foggy's tirades always seemed to brighten moods.

"If SHIELD is all about this _justice_ , they would just pay the expenses and get it over with. That's justice," Foggy decides with a huff of hot air.  
"I'm not sure winning the case is entirely what they're after," Matt concedes.

"What do you mean?" Karen asks. She stops organizing the box of files on her lap to look at him.

"I don't know just yet," Matt states, feeling the resentful glare of Foggy's that he's grown to really _hate._

"Well, great. You let us know when you do, Professor X," Foggy mutters bitterly.

"Foggy, how is Matt Professor X?" Karen wonders with a smirk.

"Always acting like he knows everything and whatever," Foggy rambles, humor quickly swallowing any traces of anger.

"But he just said he _didn't_ know!" Karen protests with a laugh bubbling in her throat.

"Foggy, is it because I'm handicapped?" Matt feigns hurt and innocence, hiding his smile with a carefully constructed mask.

" _Foggy_ ," Karen stretches out the syllables in his name with a chiding whine.

Foggy groans, "I've had it with both of you, Murdock and Page! Both of you!" For dramatic effect, he sends a packet of papers flying off the table.

The three of them smile at each other, quiet, but relieved that no matter how much trouble they stumble into, the other two will have their backs tenfold.

"You're picking that up," Karen quips with a smirk.

"In a moment," Foggy declares, raising a finger, "While my pride still stands firm."

Karen rolls her eyes, setting the box of files on the floor before getting up and taking a seat by Matt. She reaches for Foggy's laptop, pulling it towards her.

As humor fades to the seriousness of the matter at hand, Foggy turns to Matt. "Do you really think we should take this case?"

Matt nods once, "I do."

Foggy stares at him a while, and Matt ignores questioning gaze sending his stomach into a twist of knots.

"Okay," Foggy says with a weak smile, "Then we'll do it."

Matt offers a thin smile in thanks, grateful that the trust between them wasn't as weak as he had thought.

"They may or may not be better than Fisk," Karen says, eyes wide in disbelief as she stares at the computer screen, "But they definitely pay better. Look," she beckons Foggy over, "SHIELD just wired it through."

Foggy whistles lowly, impressed, "Maybe the agents aren't as bad as I thought."

"Weren't you just complaining about how they offered to bribe us?" Matt teases.

Foggy's heart skips a beat, "Um, first off, whoa, uncalled for, Matt. Second of all, we never agreed to take any form of bribe. And third of all, we're _human_ , we need to afford things. Like coffee that isn't the kind Karen tries to kill us with."

Karen face twists up, "I don't _have_ to make you coffee," she snaps sourly.

"That's not the point, Kar," Foggy clarifies, "I _like_ that you make me coffee. It makes me feel like a boss," Foggy grins, gesturing with his hands, "And not like colloquial slang variety, but you know, the kind that's on top, that has the fancy car, who orders people around, who just snaps his fingers and then, _wham!_ A nice hot—good, I might add— cup of coffee. That kind of boss."

While Foggy continues fantasizing with a smile, Karen and Matt exchange concerned looks.

"Maybe next time, DeCaf," Matt suggests.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Hi Everyone! Thank you so much to all those who have been reading, following, favoriting and reviewing! It means the world to me! It keeps me motivated!**

The office of Nelson and Murdock received a call a few days later, requesting that the two lawyers meet SHIELD's representatives in a neutral location to discuss the upcoming court trial.  
Foggy is suspicious, glowering at the antique phone, as if it was the visual representation of the invite.

"Don't shoot the messenger," Karen scolds the man mildly, entering their makeshift conference room with two cups of steaming coffee.

She sets down a mug on the table beside Matt, who offers her a gracious smile in response. With the other cup, she takes a long sip, watching Foggy with smug eyes.

"Says the girl who holds grudges," Foggy mutters, before turning back to the screen of his laptop.

If Karen is a girl who holds grudges, she relents a little too easily, Matt notes, taking a swig of his own brew.

"Do you really want coffee, Foggy?" Karen asks with a sweet softness as if she were trying to please a child.

Foggy grins, looking back at her, "Yeah, actually. That would be great."

"Weak, Karen," Matt comments with feigned disappointment as she heads back out the room. She stops long enough to give him a wry smirk over her shoulder before returning back to the meager kitchen.

"Don't encourage her," Foggy hushes with a low voice.

Matt shrugs, denying any part of it.

"But seriously, man," Foggy begins, leaning closer to his partner over the gap between separate tables, "When a person asks someone to meet them in a _neutral_ location, doesn't that mean a location in which to _neutralize_ them?"

"I don't think so, Foggy," Matt decides, shaking his head.

"Think about it, Matt. It's _weird_ ," Foggy disagrees.

"Weird as it may be, it's not surprising. SHIELD is an off-the-grid organization. They deal in secrets. You knew what you were getting yourself into," Matt explains, frowning slightly.

"I only agreed because you agreed first," Foggy mumbles back, darkly.

"You still agreed," Matt reminds teasingly.

Foggy growls something under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Matt smiles when he hears high heels approaching, "Besides, if they wanted us dead, I'm sure they would have extended the meeting to Karen as well."

Karen smiles meekly at the acknowledgment, handing Foggy his coffee before falling into a seat in the corner of the room.

"Thank you, m'lady," Foggy raises his mug to her, before returning his gaze to Matt. "But maybe they didn't know how _awesome_ Karen is at solving cover-ups. We've got an actual Sherlock in our midst, Matt. They just don't know it."

Karen's expression visibly pinches in discomfort, but she doesn't say anything, choosing to take a drink of her own coffee instead.

"It'll be our secret then," Matt humors him, inwardly squirming in pity at Karen's subtle distress. "But SHIELD doesn't seem like something that would leave any loose ends."

Foggy looks at him critically, nose crinkling in suspicion, "So you think this meet-up is harmless?"

Matt nods.

"And you think we should go?"

Matt nods again, "It is our duty to keep our client comfortable and in their trust."

Foggy frowns, picking up on his partner's dark humor.

"And you're going to be late," Karen remarks, standing up, beckoning the others to do the same. She forces a crooked smile, "I'll be sending good thoughts."

Matt and Foggy gather up their jackets and briefcases before the head for the door.

"Yeah, well, tell me when _good thoughts_ ever saved anyone from being assassinated," Foggy requests.

"We're not getting assassinated, Foggy," Matt reassures with a sly grin, "We aren't important enough for it to be assassination."

"Matt," Foggy begins with raised brows, "You're a sick son of a bitch."

"Bye, boys," Karen waves as the two lawyers leave the office, chuckling together.

SHIELD had asked them to meet at a business conference complex, a building that rented out spaces for companies to simply meet, or even reside, on the edge of Hell's Kitchen. When they entered the lobby, an enveloping wave of air conditioning hits them, followed by the indescribable scent of newness. The complex has an atrium, the center of the ground floor's ceiling reaching to the very top of the building. Sunlight washes over from the glass roof, causing the metal infrastructure to glint and glow, as if freshly polished. It probably was.

Foggy cranes his neck upward, seeing the hallways of multiple floors circle them above. Matt could hear cellphones go off and telephones ringing in a cacophony of professional fervor. Heels tapped on marble floors, businessmen and women discussed deals in low, urgent tones. The two men, very used to their modest living and office arrangements, were, as one would say, fish out of water. But the two of them conceal that feeling very well, they were lawyers after all.

Matt's heart skitters a beat when he picks up on the presence of Agent Barton, only a few steps away, surprised that he hadn't noticed him sooner. Matt makes a mental note to be more wary of the guy.

"Mr. Murdock, Mr. Nelson," Clint greets with a brisk shake of the two men's hands.

"Agent Barton," Matt nods slightly, probing the man with his senses for anything, threat or not. The man was calm, composed, but Matt could tell he seemed a little on edge. Matt isn't sure if it's simply due to his line of work, or something more.

"Follow me," Clint leads them across the lobby to an elevator that takes them up to the fourth floor. They rotate down the circular hallway until they reach a door on the opposite side of the hall, below them, the entrance to the building.

Agent Billings and another agent rise from their seats to meet them. Clint closes the door behind them, moving around the long table to take up position by the floor-to-ceiling window.

"Thank you for coming," Billings shakes Matt's and Foggy's hands. Matt can feel his hard gaze on him as if he were expecting something of him. The feeling made him uneasy. Billings turns his head towards the agent beside him, "This is Agent Marcus Stone. He'll be helping me with getting you two up to speed on the case."

"Thanks again for representing us," Agent Stone nods gratefully.

The four of them take a seat. SHIELD and Nelson & Murdock on opposite sides.

"Yeah, um, do you _mind_ me asking why we couldn't meet in our office?" Foggy demands, exasperated, as he pulls out his laptop.

Matt shoots his partner a look. It is obvious Foggy still didn't trust his clients. Unfortunately, Foggy's mistrust, as of late, always bled into his professionalism.

Sean Billings smiles like a shark, "It's protocol, Mr. Nelson. SHIELD does not meet in non-SHIELD residencies and offices more than once, especially if it is regarding the same subject. I'm sure you are aware of who we are and what we do—it is simply a matter of security. I'm sure you can understand."

Foggy is about to say something, but thinks otherwise. Thankfully.

"We can," Matt states for the both of them.

Matt's chest tightens when he hears Clint chuckle from his side of the room as if he knew something everyone else didn't. Neither of the agents acknowledge his contribution.

"Due to our _security_ reasons, I'm sure you've found it hard to find much on the case with the internet," Billings assumes. And that's true, Matt and Foggy spent countless hours trying to find more information. All they knew was that some sort of accident had happened in New York, and a team called the Avengers—Foggy thought the name didn't make any sense—saved the day so that there were limited casualties and structural damages made to New York City.

"We'll start from the beginning," Agent Stone adds in, "New York was under attack, and we sent our team, the Avengers to take care of it. Because of SHIELD's sacrifice—we lost many operatives in the process— and our quick thinking and resources, we were able to keep the destruction to a minimum and apprehend the assailants."

Foggy turns to Matt, "It reads a little like a children's book, doesn't it, Matt?"

Matt presses his lips together in a firm line, noticing a small pulse of anger swell from the window's occupant.

Sean's eyes narrows, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Foggy begins, irritated, "That you're not telling it objectively. A lot of damage was done to Hell's Kitchen and a lot of people died. You're treating this like you aren't at fault for any of it."

"We're not," Sean presses back, adamantly.

"What we're trying to say, agents," Matt raises a hand in peace, "Is that you aren't helping us figure out how Hell's Kitchen is going to fight you. How are they going to blame you? What's their evidence?"

"There is none," Agent Billings growls out.

"If there's not any evidence why would Hell's Kitchen be suing you?" Foggy snaps out.

"Because Hell's Kitchen is a poverty-ruined, _desperate_ city run with _corrupt_ leaders who are willing to twist _anything_ to get what they want," Billings spits out.

Matt tenses, sensing the swell of dark emotions clouding the conference room. Beside him, Foggy's heart pounds hard in his chest. He's seething with fury. Matt begins to wonder if it was a mistake to take on this case, it was quite literally, too close to home. But SHIELD knows that too, so why…

Matt jumps at the chance to change the subject, "Why us? Why did you want us to take your case?"

Agent Billings takes a deep breath, composing himself. His face still a red tint. "I told you before, Mr. Murdock. We're looking for the same justice you are."

"But we live in Hell's Kitchen," Matt persists, knowing the truth of the reason is somehow much deeper, "We're loyal to our city."

"Justice is loyal to no one," Billings responds, voice smooth.

Matt grimaces, wondering if he'll ever learn the truth.

Right as he starts to hear a whirring buzz in his ear, does Clint yell out, "Get down!"

Matt slides down from his chair, pulling Foggy down with him, heart hammering in his chest, just as something crashes through the window, swallowing the room in fiery flames and ghostly smoke.

I guess there's more than one way, of finding out the truth.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello everyone! Here's a new chapter! Short one, I know. Thanks for all your interest in this story! I was BLOWN away by the amount of follows it's gotten!**

 **PS. Shout out to twilightdreamers for letting me know about the format issue, hope it's better now!**

 **Also to answer my lovely reviewers' questions:**

 **1\. This story takes place after the events of Season 1 of Daredevil, and in this story, SHIELD is alive and well(Whether you take it as before Winter Soldier or after and SHIELD is somehow rebooted, is up to you as I don't think Avengers timeline will affect this story too much)**

 **2\. Why does rich and powerful SHIELD have measly Nelson & Murdock represent them? Well, let's just say there's more at play. ;)**

 **3\. Also, yes! Clint is deaf in this story.**

 **I hope this clears things up...at least a little, heh heh.**

Chapter Four

Matt had slipped into unconsciousness for a few long, impacting seconds; the sharp ringing of the alarms jolting him awake. He winces, hand instinctively rising to his throbbing head. Matt pulls his fingers back when they come up hot and bloody. He shifts slightly from under the rubble of the collapsed table, trying to get a grasp of his surroundings. The conference room is shadowed in murky and suffocating haze. Small fires crackle with short livelihood, ignited by the device that shattered through the window. Matt can hear panicked screams and shouts from the hallway and below. The surviving overhead sprinkler releases an inconsistent trickle, clearly damaged from the attack.

Matt hears a hoarse huff of a curse belonging to Barton, followed by the sound of cracking glass.

Agent Billings groans, "Clint!…Marcus…"

"Shit," Clint growls out before trudging over to the other agents.

Matt extends a hand sideways, "Foggy," the tips of his fingers touch stiff fabric. He presses harder against the man, and his partner soon wakes with a severed wheeze.

"What happened?'" Foggy murmurs, pushing himself up.

Matt shakes his head, unknowing in that. But what he does know is that they have to _get out_ of there. He pushes to his feet, cringing when his whole world tilts. "Foggy," Matt says, offering him a hand. Foggy takes it and pulls himself up.

"Come on, Marcus," Clint urges with an unnatural warmth in his voice. Matt knew it well, because with the strong smell of blood, it was evident to him, that this was the sound of desperate man. "Stop slacking off, man. It's time to wake up," Clint continues.

The two lawyers converge on the scene. Agent Stone lying flat on his back, his shirt wet with red. Agent Barton leaning over him, pressing a firm hand into the side of Stone's stomach. Barton's other hand gently patting the side of Stone's face. Beside them, Agent Billings sitting, his teeth gritted as he holds his arm tightly, shielding an unbecoming wound.

Matt confirms the nonexistent heartbeat, "He's dead."

Dread and grief hang in the air, like the grey smoke constricting their lungs. Billings closes his eyes, head hanging in acceptance. Foggy stares at the body with wide eyes. Clint jumps to his feet, his face masked in a deadly calm.

"We need to go," Clint says, voice hard in the form of an order. He helps Billings to his feet.

"We're not just going to leave him, are we?" Foggy finally squeaks, trembling slightly.

"We don't seem to have a choice," Clint explains darkly. Matt shivers away from the man's pointed glare.

Agent Barton leans over and yanks Stone's ID card off his jacket and pockets it. He wraps an arm under Sean's shoulders before the two of them exit the remains of the room; both men limping together, but Clint taking most of the other agent's weight.

Matt looks down at the body at his feet, a grimace pulling at his lips. Foggy presses closer, wanting to say something. But Matt avoids the imminent accusation— he _knows_ it's coming—and pulls Foggy after the two men.

Below them, men and women are pouring from the staircases, running for the entrance. They bank right, following the way to the closest staircase. Matt can barely focus with all the fear trapped in the building, suffocating his senses. Barely can he hear Clint yelling into his earpiece with all the screams, shouts and other panicked outbursts.

The numb of Foggy's shock is wearing off, growing outraged with their current predicament "Who would do something—"

"Not now, Foggy," Matt mutters, gripping his friend's arm tighter as they shoot down the flight of stairs.

Matt uses Clint's heartbeat to track the two agents through the mass of people. It's quicker than normal, pulsating with adrenaline, but yet it still manages to retain some form of steadiness. A woman reeking with perfume slams into him, nearly breaking his grip on Foggy's jacket sleeve.

Only when he's out of the building and into the blazing sun, with heat waves rolling off the asphalt and sirens blaring—can he _breathe._

"Murdock!" Clint calls farther up and near the road. In front of him, a sleek SHIELD car sits, awaiting their arrival.

Matt runs after him, dragging Foggy. He pushes the man into the vehicle before hopping in himself. The car jerks forward before he even has time to shut the door.

Inside, it's quiet. All that is heard is the sharp panting of breath, and the soft _whir_ of the air conditioning.

"Take us to the Safe House," Clint tells the driver. He sits on the passenger side, head darting around to peer out all the windows, grey-blue eyes void of any emotion.

Foggy leans closer to Matt, giving the injured agent sitting beside him, more room. " _Safe House?"_ Foggy repeats, exasperated, "Why didn't we go there in the first place!"

"SHIELD personnel only," Billings responds with a wince, still clutching his arm. " But now it seems there's room for exception."

"What the _hell_ is happening," Foggy demands, trying to control his breath. The question appears to be for everyone, but his eyes are pointed at Matt.

And it seems no one knows how to answer it, for it hangs in the air, settling on their shoulders with a weight unknown, yet all the same, oppressing.

~0~0~0~

The car pulls into an underground garage fifteen minutes later. Matt has never stepped foot in this area of town without his mask. The burned remains of a Russian warehouse stand not one block from them. The thought of it, with all that happened that night, sends a fleeting shiver down his back.

Once the car is parked near the elevator stall, the five men emerge. The driver, a middle-aged man with a wispy mustache, supports Billings as Clint moves on ahead, towards the elevator.

Graffiti is sprayed along the concrete walls and floors. Some of the fluorescent overhead lights are shattered from what could quite possibly be gun shots.

"Some safe house," Foggy mutters when they reach the elevator.

"If you don't expect it, then we've done our job," Clint replies without looking back at the lawyer. He presses his thumb below the single button, and the elevator door slides open. Only then does Clint look over his shoulder to give Foggy mischievous smirk.

When everyone files in, the door closes and the elevator starts heading down. "Welcome Agent Barton," a computerized voice greets.

"Thanks," Clint tells it dryly.

After a quiet tonal ring, the elevator doors pull apart, revealing a long, dark hallway. When Clint steps out of the elevator, the lights of the hallway flicker on, revealing polished white walls and glazed concrete floors.

"You would think some creepy organization's stronghold would be a little darker," Foggy comments.

"White walls ensure a happier work environment," Clint recites sardonically with a brittle chuckle, "At least that's what the brochure said."

Doors begin to line their path as they increase their distance from the elevator. But the hallway seems endless. It twists and turns this way and that, but it never finds a corner or room to open into.

"Where are you taking us?" Matt asks.

"A place where you can finally get the answers you've been yearning for, Mr. Murdock," Billings answers between pants.

And Foggy's troubled gaze meets Matt's own.


End file.
